“I’ve got plenty of time,” I thought as I snapped my laptop shut. “The algorithm is done,” I called to Suzanna. “Once I upload it, we’ll be in the clear!” Relief flooded my whole body. I felt practically euphoric.

“Fabulous!” Suzanna plopped onto the couch. “I’m so relieved! I mean, just think, this time tomorrow everything could have been over.” She sat very still, contemplating the weight of those words.

“But, it won’t be. We did it, and we did it in record time. Twenty-four hours to spare. It’ll patch the code, the missiles won’t launch, and no one will know that anything was going to happen. Everyone will just go about their day.” I collapsed on the couch next to Suzanna, wrapping her thin hand inside my own.

“Is the algorithm uploading now?” She turned her head to look for the open laptop.

“No. I decided to wait. I’ve got to eat something. I’m starving. I don’t think I’ve eaten since breakfast yesterday. Why don’t we take a break, go downtown to that little Greek place you like, and then we’ll come home and upload it?” I lean in to kiss my wife’s forehead.

“Well, I’m not sure…” she says, looking back at the laptop. “I’d feel better if it was done.”

“Oh, come on. Let’s go celebrate! We’ve got 24 hours to get that thing up, and it’ll take literally seconds to upload.” I grab her hand and pull her up. “Don’t be such a worrier.”

She sighed. “Okay, I guess. You win. Let me grab my purse.” She gazed anxiously at the laptop behind us.

“Just leave it. I’ve got my wallet. Let’s get down there and back, and we’ll upload before bed.”

We rushed out the apartment, my wife locking the door behind us. We walked downtown, and thirtt minutes later, we were celebrating over gyros and hummus. I felt carefree and light, knowing we were going to be alright. Everything was saved. My wife still seemed nervous and tense. “Why are you still so uptight?” I grab her hand. “It’s over. We’re saved!”

She looked me directly in the eyes. “It’s not over until you’ve uploaded it. The missiles are still going to launch in,” she glanced at her watch, “twenty-two hours.”

“We’re fine!” I said. Suzanna has always been anxious. She just doesn’t know when to relax.

“I think you’re being careless. It’s not over until it’s over. We need to go back NOW and finish it.” She stood up. “Pay our bill and let’s head home.”

“What if I don’t want to head home? I’ve been working for days on this. I’m tired, and I want to celebrate.”

“You are insane.” She snarled at me. “I’d go home and do it myself, but I left my purse. Give me your keys, and I’ll head home. You can stay here and celebrate all you want.” Her tone was less than genuine. I’m not great at reading subtext, but I was pretty sure she did not want me to stay.

“Fine. Here…” I reach into my pockets, but the keys aren’t there. “Um…” I stuttered as I reaches into the other pocket. “My keys. I think I left them in the apartment.”

“Are you freakin kidding me, Stephen?” She angrily whisper-yelled at me, the people at the tables turning to look at her. “We need to go. NOW.” She grabbed her phone. “I’m calling the apartment manager to open our door. And if I can’t get him, a locksmith.”

She stormed out of the restaurant. I couldn’t believe how out of line she was. I thought that maybe we should talk about her going to counseling for her anxiety. I’d wait to bring it up, but it’d probably be really good for her.

I paid our bill and headed out front to meet her.

“I need your phone. Mine died.” I reach in my pocket and realize I don’t have mine either.

“Well…” I started with an irresistibly charming smile.

“Stephen!” She yelled. A frustrated, guttural growl escaped her lips.

“Chill out!”

“No.” She pulled her curly, black hair up into a bun using the scrunchy on her wrist. “I will NOT chill out. Look where ‘chilling out’ has got us.” She turned to leave, but whipped back around to look at me again. “You have a PROBLEM!”

“Me?” I couldn’t believe she thought I was the problem. “ME? You are the one yelling on street. People are staring at you.” I quiet my voice. “Are you on your period?”

I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen a more rage-filled look than what she gave me at that moment. She didn’t speak another word and began jogging down the street toward our apartment.

I didn’t want to go home. I needed to at some point, but not now. That’s what she wanted. I wasn’t going to let her win. There was still plenty of time to upload the algorithm.

I spotted an arcade across the street and went in. It was styled exactly like an arcade from the 80’s. Seriously the coolest place I’d ever been in. Every old game I remembered from my childhood was there. This was the perfect way to blow off steam before heading back home.

I’m not sure how long I was there before I decided to head home. I was no longer angry. I was tired though, so I walked slowly toward my apartment. I realized I was starving, again. Hadn’t I just eaten a few hours ago?

I popped into an all-night diner a block from our house and ordered waffles. They had the best waffles ever. Jenny was our regular waitress, and she knew my order before I even placed it. As usual, the waffles were unbelievable. They settled in my stomach and made he exhausted. Before I knew what had happened, I laid my head on the table and fell asleep.

Sometime later, Suzanna was standing over me. “Stephen! Where have you been? I’ve been look in everywhere!” Confusion and terror filled my entire body. What had I done? What was I thinking? If I don’t get home, there’s going to be a nuclear apocalypse!

The waitress was standing next to Suzanna. “He was so tired, I thought he wasn’t hurting anyone by taking a cat nap in the booth. No one ever comes in at 3am.”

“Stephen,” Suzanna began. “It’s 9am. We have six hours to get the algorithm online. The locksmith wouldn’t open our apartment since I didn’t have my ID.” Her voice sounded exhausted and tears began streaming down her face. “You’ve got get the locksmith to come, with your ID. I’ll try to get the apartment manager to come. He should be in by now.”

“Hey,” I began, feeling panic for the time during this entire mess. “I’m sorry I got us into this. I was out of line last night. I don’t like feeling pressure, and it was overwhelming. I needed to get out.”

“You are not forgiven, but I can’t talk about this now. We’ve got to hurry. I’m scared.”

I threw a $20 on the table and followed my wife out the door. I ran to the locksmith shop. The man was out at another job, but they promised he’d meet us next. My wife had no luck at the apartment manager. Apparently, he was running late.

So, we waited, trying to pick the lock ourselves. At 11am, the locksmith finally came. In a matter of minutes, the lock was opened. Four more hours until detonation.

Almost instantaneously, the power went out in our apartment. Another rolling blackout. The fifth one this month. We froze, paralyzed and stunned. Both our phones were dead, even hers which had been left at home. So, we quickly grabbed the laptop and bolted out the door.

“I don’t know what to do,” I called to her behind me.

“I think I have an idea,” she called back.

When we reached the street, she hailed a taxi, and we jumped in. “Take us to the nearest hospital!” she asked. The taxi sped off.

“Hospital? I don’t understand,” I say, barely able to speak at this point.

“Hospitals have back up generators. They’ll have internet, if they still have power running to those systems. Let’s pray they do.”

It took over 30 minutes to reach the hospital. We were down to three hours. We pay the taxi driver extra to park out front and let us try to access the internet from outside the building. No luck, the WiFi was down.

The taxi driver drives toward another hospital, in a part of town that, we realized, still had power. He dropped us off at a coffee shop with free WiFi. We raced to a booth, opened the laptop, and I began uploading the algorithm. The internet was sluggish. Something that would have taken moments at our own apartment was taking over an hour.

Our hearts pounded. With only an hour left, I wasn’t sure we’d have time to try something else if this didn’t work. We sat, silently watching the progress bar slowly move forward. I could only heart my pulse. My wife and I gripped hands tightly.

“If this doesn’t work, I would kill you,” my wife said, only sort of joking. “But we’ll all be dead anyway.”

I can’t speak. I can’t move. I can barely breathe. I can only watch the screen.

The time remaining on the process bar ticks down, slowly. I can see the clock on the wall. Thirty minutes remained until doomsday. Twenty minutes remaining on the progress bar. The time between the two etch closer and closer together, as the internet moves at a snails pace.

Finally, the progress bar finishes and the upload is complete. Five more minutes remain on the doomsday clock.

“Did it work?” my wife whispers.

“I guess we’ll find out in five minutes.”

Those were literally the most painful minutes of my life. When the clock reached time, nothing happened. Everything looked normal. People kept talking, sipping coffee, working on their computers.

We both started laughing in relief. Our laughter got louder and louder as people began to stare. We were both hit with a wave of exhaustion. Neither of had slept in what felt like a week, except, for you know, the nap at the diner.

“Let’s go home and go to bed,” I say, standing up from the booth. My arms and legs hurt from the tension I’ve been carrying.

“Please. I’m so tired,” she says as she stands up next to me. “But, hey, I really think you need therapy. Like a lot.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll call about that tomorrow,” I say, and we walk out the coffee shop together, hand in hand.